


When I See You

by blueabsinthe



Series: Hide the Night [12]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, New York Rangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hurts to breathe without you ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I See You

**Author's Note:**

> Covers the time between March 6th-March 19th.

_"People should know when they're conquered."_

He was neither prescient nor omnipotent. But, if he had that kind of power, he supposes he would use it to unravel Hank's rather cryptic words, and what it had to do with Vinny. 

Brad wonders if the moments he's spent with both Hank and Vinny were like being stuck in some weird half-suspended dream. A dream he did not want leave, but had to. 

He doesn't know why he's thinking about this now. Why he has all of these thoughts spinning around in his head. Ever since the win against Boston he has not been able to concentrate. 

He half-thought Hank may have a change of heart and knock on his hotel room door when they settle in for the night in New Jersey. Brad lost count of how many times he picked up his phone, fingers hovering over the keys, wanting to dial Hank's number, before deciding not to. 

He read, and re-read through all of Vinny's texts. About a year's worth of texts stare back at him. The black letters are foreboding. They cause a tightness in his chest. Eventually, he falls asleep with his phone pressed against his chest. 

-x-

The loss to New Jersey was a hard one to take. He tries to answer questions following the loss. Even glances over in Hank's direction, knowing his competitive nature was probably taking its toll on him.

Sure enough, Hank looks miserable. 

Brad gets tired of answering the same questions, and desperately wants to shower and leave. Because, as much as everyone likes to think, he does not have all the answers. 

He thinks if he was, he would be able to figure out how best to piece his life back together. But, Brad doesn't have answers. He doesn't even have most of the answers. 

Brad spends most of the flight to Ottawa, and the ride to the hotel going over every possible crack and crevice Ottawa will have in their plays. He tries to piece together the gaps in their lines, where mistakes are bound to crop up. 

He knows all this, but he does it anyway. Not because he wants to but because it is a distraction from having to glance over at Hank, and willing him to look at him. 

Brad's not even sure about what he expects of Hank in that moment. All he knows is he wants something. Anything, really. Just a small moment where Brad will know for sure that everything will be okay, because he's not sure he can keep going over the game plan for the game. 

But, he keeps over-analyzing the plays, the lines, until he thinks his attention will eventually give out on him.

They drop the game to Ottawa. Then the one against Chicago the night after. 

It's an end to a very unsuccessful road trip. 

-x-

The thing with ends is they are so final. Sometimes they end subtly. Other times they end with a bang. Over the years Brad has learned to accept them and move on. Except, he found he did not want this to be the way things end with Hank.

But, he couldn't figure out how to fix everything. 

And, he was not sure which was worse. Having to accept the end, or not knowing how to fix things. 

Which is probably why the next four games seem to fly by. Two wins, two losses. 

Win some. Lose some.

So, when they came away from the game against New Jersey, wherein they became the first Eastern Conference team to clinch a playoff spot, Brad found himself in a bar with his teammates. 

He had no intentions of getting completely wasted. Hadn't done that in years. Which is why when he felt Hank place a warm hand on his shoulder, and whisper against his ear, Brad was quite sure he felt time stop.

"I'm taking off. What to share a cab?"

Brad was almost grateful for having an excuse to leave, and not drink any more. He nodded, slipped his jacket on, and slipped silently away, ignoring the protests of their teammates.

"We're not as young as all of you!" he joked, before Hank and him exited the bar and hailed a cab. 

Climbing into the back seat made him realize how exhausted he actually was. He hadn't been sleeping well since Tampa. But, now it felt like the lack of sleep was finally catching up to him. Brad felt like he could sleep for days. 

It was a selfish thought that crossed his mind as he gave the driver directions to his place. Part of him was hoping Hank would stay the night. Maybe he would finally be able to sleep through the night. 

Brad leaned his head against the seat, slid his eyes to Hank, hoping his eyes would communicate the words he couldn't articulate in that moment. 

Except, Hank was avoiding his gaze. He watched as the meter ticked off their distance and rate. 

"You didn't drive to the Garden tonight?" Brad asked.

Hank shook his head.

The rest of the cab ride passed them by in silence. There was the occasional rustling of their clothing as they shifted positions, but for the most part, they were silent. They both seemed to be avoiding the topic of each other. 

When the cab stopped at Brad's, he paid his fare, and stepped from the back seat. He was surprised to find Hank had joined him on the curb. 

"I'll walk you up," Hank said, shutting the cab door.

The sound echoed in the silence, causing an air of finality to ring in Brad's mind. He shrugged and led Hank inside.

Hank followed alongside him, keeping pace with his long strides. 

To say the silence between them was awkward seemed like an understatement at this point. Brad broke it soon after he flicked on the lights in his entrance hall. They stood there, hands shoved into their pockets, just staring at each other.

"Thanks," Brad mumbled, before he continued across the floor to the windows. He didn't turn to see if Hank had followed him. 

Which is why when he turned from staring out the windows, he was taken aback by Hank taking off his jacket and sinking onto his couch. 

"I'm fine," Brad said. "You don't have to stay."

Hank shrugged, and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not in a hurry, and neither is the cab." He eyed Brad carefully. "Are you going to sit down?"

Brad supposed he should be a bit more upset by the fact that he was being ordered around in his own space, but the exhaustion was creeping back into his system. He sighed as he crossed the floor and let his body fall onto the sofa. 

Hank was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He turned his head and eyed Brad thoughtfully. 

"You don't owe me an explanation," Brad blurted out. "I get it. I do."

Hank dropped his head into his hands then, his voice was low and muted. "Do you?"

Brad stared at Hank, the past and present rushing around him like ocean waves. Him at fourteen shaking Vinny's hand for the first time. The adolescent years passing by in a blur; hoisting the Stanley Cup; all the years with Vinny coalescing into a brilliant fire … and Hank. Who Brad had never asked anything of, but who had been so willing to help …

"Yes," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hank shook his head sadly, bit his bottom lip and stared off into the distance. "I don't think you do …" he let his voice trail off.

Brad could not think of anything else to say in that moment, so, he moved closer to Hank, and wrapped his arms around him. He breathed in deeply, letting the scent of Hank's cologne and soap fill his nostrils. Brad was overwhelmed. 

He shifted his head, burying his face against Hank's chest. He was aware of the moment when Hank moved a hand to stroke his hair, murmuring incoherent syllables in Swedish and English against his ear. Brad's quite sure he hears Hank murmur: " _Jag tror att jag älskar dig_ ," against his ear, but he's not too sure.

When Hank pulled Brad's head back slightly so he could kiss his lips, Brad's response was almost instantaneous. There was a desperation in his movements as he covered Hank's lips with his. He was starved for this. It felt like years since they had kissed like this, but, in reality, it had only been a little over two weeks. Brad fisted his hand in the front of Hank's shirt, clinging almost violently to the fabric, as he placed his mouth against Hank's ear. "Hank - _please_ ," he begged, not knowing what it was he was begging for, but knowing he would most likely go out of his mind if they stopped.

Hank's hands were skimming down Brad's back, as Brad moved so he was straddling Hank, his legs wrapping around his waist. Hank gripped his hips tightly as he pulled his lips away from him so he could kiss Brad's neck, his ears, his shoulders. His fingers were tangling in Brad's hair, playing with the tiny hairs on the back of his neck, as his lips brushed over his temples. Brad could feel Hank's breath as it came in slow, warm bursts, and he felt Hank's cock twitch against him. He skimmed a hand down Hank's chest, and cupped him through his pants. When Hank finally pulled away, Brad could see the effort he was having to exert. 

"I can't …" Hank choked out, placing a hand on Brad's wrist and pulling his hand away from him.

Brad let his eyes drop to the floor as he climbed down from Hank. "I get it," he whispered.

"It's not that I don't -"

"No," Brad started, "I get it. It's okay." His voice was wavering. 

"It's just … Damnit, Brad. I can't keep -"

"I said it was fine."

Hank sighed, and leaned back against the couch, running his hands through his hair. "Let's talk," he said simply.

"What's there to talk about?"

"When has talking hurt anyone?"

Brad chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. Leaned his head against his hand. His eyes focused on the coffee table. "There's nothing to talk about. You won't explain anything to me, so what's the point?"

"The point is, there are some things you have to work out before you will ever be whole."

"And you know what will make me whole? Is that what you're saying?"

Hank shrugged. "I'm making an observation."

"Is that what you meant by 'people should know when they're conquered'?"

Hank was silent, mulling over his thoughts silently. "Like I said, if you -"

"If you have to ask me that, I'll never know … yeah, I know. Saying nothing, but everything at the same time."

"I will say this though," Hank started, "sometimes the best way to find out the end is to start at the very beginning."

"Which means what exactly?" Brad stared at Hank for a few minutes before he said, "This has to do with Vinny, doesn't it?"

Hank shrugged. "That's a start, yes."

Brad sighed. "What do you want me to tell you, Hank? That I've known him for over a decade of my life? That I'm so … god, I don't even know anymore!" His expression was fierce. "Have you ever grown up with someone thinking everything was going to be perfect? So perfect that it's a blow to your system when it turns out nothing is going to be perfect?" He paused, eyes raking over Hank's form. "Have you ever loved someone so much it hurt to breathe when they weren't with you?" 

Hank's gaze flicked to Brad's. His blue eyes meeting Brad's amber ones. "Once," he breathed. Hank wanted to shake him for being so … blind.

Brad seemed to deflate slightly by that omission. He looked at Hank, curiosity overtaking his expression. "Want to talk about it?"

Not yet, Hank thought wistfully. He was not ready. At least not yet. This was just what he had to do, despite how hard it actually was to stay away from him.

He got to his feet then, and slipped back into his jacket. "It's late, Brad." He made his way for the door. "I'll tell you about it sometime," he said, as he unlocked the door.

"See you tomorrow?" Brad asked.

Hank nodded. And, before he could think about what a stupid move it may be, he curled an around Brad's waist, and pulled him close. He curled his fingers in Brad's hair, and kissed him. "You know where to find me," he said cryptically, before he slipped from Brad's apartment. 

He listened as the door clicked shut behind him. Hank's thoughts were dizzying and occupied his mind as he made his way out onto the streets. He couldn't keep watching Brad slough another piece of himself off. Knowing no matter how many pieces he kept taking, or Brad kept giving, it would never be enough. There were a lot of things Hank was willing to accept in his life. But, out of all the things he has ever accepted in his life, it was never anything less than he felt he deserved.

To put it another way, Hank wanted it all, or nothing.


End file.
